Once, when I first presented these ideas, I was told that if you start torturing language you sooner or later end up torturing real people. I think the exact opposite is true: the ultimate choice we, humans, face is: either you are ready to torture language or you will end up torturing people. Violence needs poetry to become palpable for the people who practice it, and poetry also needs and practices violence — but a radically different one. The real violence of terrorizing and torturing people needs a poetry that deprives it of its horror and transforms it into a sublime ethical (patriotic) act. Poetic violence targets and undermines the very sublime greatness of patriotic and other ideological myths, which serve to legitimize real violence.

France, 1942. When secretive Major Felix Hartmann of the Gestapo is kept away from Paris to question British spies, he is unprepared for the enigmatic Ezra Thomson and his own reactions to the man. M/M Slash.

A school assignment on the topic "Forgotten Corners". I wrote about a corner-of-sorts: an alley where there was once a cement block, "my" old playground. My second attempt at writing a poem, but it's the first time I tried to apply techniques. Enjoy!